


A Cruel Man

by Saetha



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: (thanks for that Leonardo), (the porn is skippable tho if u aren't into that sort of thing), Angst, Blow Jobs, Cuddles, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, I think I got the order of these wrong lmao, M/M, Sweetness, also mentions of Ezio/Cristina and Ezio/Sofia, and then Yusuf finds out that Ezio gives the best damn blowjobs on the planet, idk man it's just a giant potpourri really, like one moment they are being all sweet and shit, past Ezio/Leonardo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 02:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13649097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saetha/pseuds/Saetha
Summary: Ezio has done a stupid thing and taken on a band of templars that are too many even for him. He gets life-threateningly injured. It's up to Yusuf to care for him and attempt to nurse him back to health (and finally get that kiss they've both been wanting for a while now).





	A Cruel Man

**Author's Note:**

> Haha I told myself I'd just write a quick 2k drabble for them. Hahahahahahahahahahahahah. SHIT. (Also why does nobody else ship this. Have you played the game have you FELT the gay bc I swear my PS3 turned into a rainbowcoloured unicorn) . Anyway, if you've found your way here, enjoy! Fair warning for some fairly explicit porn towards the end - it's only about 2k so you can totally skip it if you want.

 

He should not have come here alone.

The thought formed in Ezio’s mind a split second before the templar’s blade crashed into his shoulder and sent him reeling back a half step. He turned, feeling metal scrape on metal and brought his arm up to block another stroke coming down. A step to the side and he could grab his opponent’s sword, twisting it out of his grip before ramming the pommel into his face.

Ezio ducked to the side and another blade swished through the air where his neck had just been. He really, _really_ shouldn’t have come here alone, with no way to signal any of the other assassins. He disarmed a second guard and stabbed his hidden blade into the neck of a third, ignoring the painful twinge his back muscles gave in protest at the sudden movement.

Ah, the joys of aging.

Another step and block, moving away again to gain some air and then moving back in with a low cut that he twisted around. And then – the sound of shouts and more steps and yes, this was definitely a little more than even he could handle confidently. Ezio’s blade snagged between two plates of armour of the man he had just killed and was ripped out of his hands. He cursed, bending down to grab one of the guard’s swords just as a bullet whistled over his head.

Wonderful.

He threw two of his knives to take out (or at least incapacitate) the one who had shot at him, but then the three others were on him. Two janissaries and a man he vaguely recognized as one of the captains most closely allied to the Templars. The one he had come here to kill, in fact.

Ezio managed to block off their first attack with as much skill as luck, ramming his armoured elbow into first janissary’s masked face. A satisfying crack and muffled scream were the result. The other janissary had blocked his incoming slash, attempted to grab this wrist and was only held back when Ezio kicked him in the groin with full force. He felt more than heard the captain move behind him and turned, blocking his sabre just at the hilt. A turn, another slash, and the man stumbled back, just as the first janissary finished reloading his gun and aimed at Ezio again.

Ezio ducked, felt the bullet graze his scalp in a fiery line and threw two more knives in his direction. This time, the janissary stayed down, a knife sticking out of his eye. The second one, the one with the broken mask, he dispatched quickly as well with a stab from behind just as he had been getting up again. That left two. Ezio gasped when a fist found the only unprotected spot in his side. He had learned early enough that a fist was best used for distraction and had just enough mind left to block the dagger that came in from the other side. He moved in, wretched the janissary’s arm up to disable the dagger and rammed the hidden blade between his ribs right into his heart. A soft gurgling came from behind the man’s mask as he drowned in his own blood.

“It seems like your skills weren’t exaggerated.” It was more of a sneer than a sentence, but at least it gave Ezio time to turn around as he gulped down lungfuls of air, his muscles protesting. This had been far, far too close. He looked down to see that his sleeve was soaked with blood from a wound he hadn’t even noticed before. A part of his mind wondered why the captain hadn’t taken the opportunity and killed him from behind when he could.

“I tend to live up to my name,” Ezio said warily as he watched the captain, still panting harshly. The captain’s smile grew wider as he noticed his exhaustion.

“So I gather that you came here to kill me today. Any specific reason? Or am I just another name on your endless list?”

“You were the one behind the attempt on Yusuf Tazim.” No need to make it a question.

“And he sent _you_ after me in retribution? What a coward,” the captain laughed. “But then, I guess I’ll have to thank him for such a gift. Being able to deliver your head to the leader of our order…”

Ezio growled, keeping a tight rein on his anger.

“He does not know,” he said stiffly before reaching out and aiming towards the captain. Just one of the hidden bullets, just one-

A dagger flew his way, embedding itself neatly in the hidden mechanism.

“I have studied your kind for a long time, assassin. Have you never wondered where some of yours disappeared to? My rooms are filled with your wondrous artifacts.”

Ezio hissed something unintelligible under his breath as he drew his sword. Focus, he had to focus. Blood was trickling through his hair and the scar on his face throbbed in a steady reminder of what happened when he let his emotions overtake him. The captain smiled again, a glint in his eyes that was far removed from sanity.

There were no further words, just the clanging of steel on steel as they clashed, moved away from each other and clashed again, trying to grapple and punch and stab all at the same time. The captain laughed when Ezio drew first blood, wildness setting the light in his eyes on fire. Ezio wondered if this was what some of his own victims had seen last in their lives. He shuddered.

Another step sideways, drawing up his sword and blocking a downwards slash. Down the other way, let the force of the man’s hit carry him so he could twirl and slice his neck. Slow, too slow, a stab towards his ankles that he barely evaded, a fist that found its way into his stomach. Ezio grunted, retaliated with an elbow to the face and a grab towards the captain’s sabre. Both their blades clattered to the ground and he was close, so close, just needed to bring up his _other_ hidden blade, stab it into the captain’s throat-

A dagger sliced through the fabric of his clothes, evaded his armour and buried itself up to the hilt in his belly. The captain laughed, continued to laugh as Ezio’s blade found his way to his throat.

“An eye for an eye,” he gurgled, laughing until his life had left him, spilling out red over his chest.

Ezio stumbled backwards, his own breathing far too loud in his ears. The hilt of the dagger was already slick with blood as he pulled it out. He pressed his arm against the wound. Leaning forward, he closed the captain’s eyes with a trembling hand. _Requiescat in pace_. It felt like the prelude to his own funeral. There was no pain yet, or rather, there was so much of it all at once that his mind had gone numb with it. He attempted to stand up again but almost fell. Only on the third try did he manage to pull himself up at the wall, taking one tottering step after another.

All he had to do was to make it to the nearest den. Bayezid South, Lesya should be there with supplies and Paolo, the medic who lived in the house next door, always ready to be called (and rewarded handsomely for his service and his silence). Ezio gripped the wall next to him, forced himself to feel the rough wood and stone with already far too cold fingers. _Yusuf_ , he thought numbly. Lord, but he truly had been an idiot for coming here alone.

The den was close, only two more corners and he would be able to see its door already. Two more corners. His sight had started to become dizzy at the edges and he shook his head, trying to clear the shadows from his eyes. The motion made him stumble and he lost his grip, falling to the ground as he could no longer hold on.

Ezio looked down at his stomach, the burning pain slowly eating away at his mind. His fingers were coated in red as if he was wearing a glove. So close, the den. So achingly close and yet far enough that it wouldn’t have mattered had it been at the other end of the world.

 _Claudia_. He wasn’t sure whether he’d said the name aloud or whether it was just floating in his mind. _Claudia. Leonardo. Sofia. Yusuf_. _Forgive me_. He had always known it would end this way, had often stretched his luck just a little too far. Fate’d had to catch up to him at some point.

He thought he heard someone call his name, but the shadows in front of his eyes sprouted wings of black and he saw no more.

*

“Where _is_ he?” Yusuf paced up and down the room, unable to contain his nervous energy. Ezio was normally always here during this time, usually buried in one book or another, searching through any and all of their old texts to find out anything he could about Masyaf and its legendary buried library.

‘ _I am far too old to spend the whole day running around outside anymore_ ,’ he had once told Yusuf with a tired smile and Yusuf had laughed and gripped his shoulder, just to see Ezio’s smile widen in the unconscious way it always did when he heard Yusuf laugh. ‘ _You’re only eight years older than me and I’ve seen the way you still climb_ ,’ Yusuf had teased him and then he had pulled Ezio away from his reading and over to the table where some coffee and tea were already waiting for them.

“I saw him make his way down south earlier, close to my den,” Lesya offered from where she was nibbling at some fruit. “He talked to one of the book sellers on the street before disappearing around a corner. I do not think he saw me. Or wanted to be seen, for that matter.”

“South of Bayezid? He could be anywhere.” Yusuf didn’t even attempt to hide the unhappiness in his voice.

“I do not think he went far,” Lesya shook her head. “He had that…expression that he only gets when he is mentally preparing himself to kill.” Lesya had always been an attentive recruit, attuned to expressions and gestures and what they told her about the people she worked with – and those she killed. 

“We should look,” Yusuf decided. He couldn’t quite say why – it wasn’t unnatural for Ezio to be out alone or arrive a little later than usual for his reading time but something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. And better to be wrong and safe than wrong and regret it until the end of his life. “Let’s start at the den and search in circles from there.”

The feeling that something was wrong intensified the moment he set foot outside the doors of their den in the southern part of the Bayezid district. There were anxious whispers in the crowds of murdered guards and a murdered captain, of an assassin who had killed them as quickly as a lightning strike. And there was the wowrried face of one of their young apprentices, slightly out of breath, who had just reached out to open door when Yusuf stepped out.

“Master Tazim! I was sent to fetch you, quickly, you have to come-“ The youth was still in his early teens and his eyes were huge, his voice trembling. “It’s our mentor, he-“

“I’m coming.” Yusuf set out in a trot, pushing the youth in front of him. He had an inkling of what the boy was about to tell him. “Quick.”

Knowing what had happened and seeing it with his own two eyes were two very different things, however. The first thing he did when he saw Ezio’s curled up shape on the ground, half hidden behind a stack of hay, hair matted with blood and his arm still clutching uselessly at the bleeding hole in his belly was to bend down and search for his pulse with trembling fingers. They had told him he was still alive, had told him they might have come at just the right time to save him but it was only when Yusuf felt a far too faint, far too unsteady pulse beneath his hand that he expelled the breath he had held since opening the door of their den.

“Run and get Paolo into the den, tell him it’s an emergency, a stab wound in the belly. We’ll follow you.” The young apprentice nodded, eyes still wide as saucers as they flickered back and forth between Yusuf and the still form on the ground. As far as Yusuf knew Ezio was infallible and practically immortal in the eyes of every assassin in Constantinople. Hell, he had always thought so too.

Ezio’s body was as heavy as he had expected even after they had removed the heaviest parts of his armour. Yusuf didn’t care; he hoisted him up into his arms with a harsh breath, clutching him as if his embrace alone could stave off death. Ezio’s blood seeped through his clothes until it seemed to burn on his skin like acid.

There were few people out at this time of day for which he was grateful although the curious glance of those that _did_ see them seemed to drill into his body with the same insistence that the voice in his head showed when it told him that Ezio would die. He thought he saw him move slightly once but it was probably only a figment of Yusuf’s imagination. Yusuf shifted Ezio’s weight slightly, feeling a tremor travel through his muscles. The short run to the den seemed to take forever.

He couldn’t bear to watch when Paolo finally bared the wounds on Ezio’s skin, sucking in a sharp breath at the damage that had been wrought. He paced up and down the room, even as he listened to every word the doctor was saying, to the soft sound that the needle made as it passed through flesh and the slight rasp of fabric on skin. His worry and rage were tightly coiled snakes inside his chest that had nobody to lash out at.

“Will he survive?” He didn’t recognize his own voice; it sounded brittle like old coals. Paolo shrugged, not daring to look him directly in the eyes.

“The next few days will show. Gut wounds like these are always tricky – I’ve done the best I could, but they usually always get infected. It’ll be a matter of luck, and patience.” He droned on about the medicine he had left and gave them directions of what to do that night and that he would come in the next morning if they didn’t call him before that. Yusuf only listened with half an ear, his eyes trained on Ezio’s still face, so unfamiliar when it wasn’t animated by his usual wit. The rage inside him built and built until it was a fire and he excused himself from the room right after the doctor had left and he had seen to it that Ezio was as comfortable as he could be under the circumstances.

Then Yusuf began running. He ran, first out on the street, then clambered up the side of a building, travelled down one of the many tautly spanned lines with his hookblade and kept on running, across rooftops, over streets and rocks and walls. He ran until his breath was nothing but white hot fire inside his chest and every one of his muscles felt like they would snap at any moment. And even then he kept on at a fast trot as his breathing slowed and his thoughts slowly assembled themselves.

Why was it that Ezio Auditore da Firenze could not leave his thoughts alone? Why was it that, when he had looked into Ezio’s ashen face earlier, all that he could see was the way the skin beside his eyes crinkled when he laughed? Why was it that the thought of Ezio dying hurt like a blade driven into his heart, its hook twisting with every single step he took? Death was always a close partner in the assassins’ dance of life and many did not even live to see the age that Ezio had reached.

Yusuf hefted a stone in his hand and threw it as strongly as he could, watched as it made a dent in the wood of the tree standing in the middle of the small backyard. Suddenly, the thought that Ezio might die whilst he was not even there to watch him cut through his mind with almost searing pain. He had to return.

*

The fever came in the middle of the night. First it was a slight flush to Ezio’s cheeks, replacing their deathly paleness with a warmth that almost seemed healthy at first. Then he was burning up within hours, his skin as dry and brittle as parchment under the heat. Yusuf was almost scared of touching him, afraid that it would crumble and flake away under his rough finger tips. But he stayed, stayed the entire night changing the cold cloth on Ezio’s forehead and attempting to dribble as much tea between his parched lips as he could.

It didn’t seem to help.

By morning Ezio’s skin had become so hot that Paolo only shook his head and told him regretfully that they should prepare for the worst, there was little else they could do now. The cuts on Ezio’s arm and head were fine, but as predicted the wound in his gut had festered despite their care. Its edges were red and raised, a stark and angry contrast to Ezio’s pale skin even as Paolo smothered it in the salve he had brought. It was the first time that Yusuf noticed all the other welts and pale lines on Ezio’s skin. So many wounds. So much pain. Why did it have to be this one that might finally make an end of it? Paolo left them again with instructions to keep doing what they were doing, the salve, the tea, the cloth, the care. There was nothing more to be done beyond it, really.

It was around midday that Ezio began to speak. Not sentence or anything else that would make sense, certainly – snippets of Italian, intermixed with Sabir and, occasionally, even a Turkish word or two. Yusuf thought he understood names – Leonardo, Cristina, Claudia, Catarina, Petruccio, Federico – but he wasn’t sure. It felt as if he was invading Ezio’s privacy just by hearing them, little gems that dropped from Ezio’s fevered mouth that he had no right to be taking. He wondered if he would ever get the chance to ask Ezio after them.

By evening Ezio’s skin hadn’t cooled and his body began to show the first traces of what it was enduring. Where it wasn’t spotted bright red with fever his skin had become an almost mottled grey as if it was hanging off a living corpse, Ezio’s heart was hammering and his breathing coming in harsh gasps. And yet he continued to hang on throughout the night, continued to fight with every ounce of a strength that seemed to be rapidly diminishing. Yusuf found himself sitting next to his bed, forehead in a frown as he kept trying to force at least some of the tea down Ezio’s throat. His hand seemed to move almost without thought, closing around Ezio’s fingers with infinite gentleness.

“Don’t go,” he whispered. “Because if you do, I’ll never forgive myself.”

He half hoped for a miracle like in all those stories he had heard as a child, hoped that Ezio would open his eyes now with a smile and witty retort on his lips. But of course nothing changed in Ezio’s demeanour, not even a single twitch of his fingers to show that he might be aware of Yusuf’s touch.

“Damn, that sounded melodramatic, didn’t it?” Yusuf continued speaking with a little laugh. “Don’t know what’s come over me. I’m usually a lot less sentimental than this.”

He kept talking, not even sure what about or why. Maybe to keep the darkness outside the windows and in his chest at bay or maybe because he suddenly couldn’t stand to hear the sound of Ezio’s labored breathing anymore, the constant reminder of death. It was mostly nonsense what he talked, little stories of his childhood or small adventures which the other assassins had told him about. Ezio’s state didn’t change and it was likely that he wasn’t even listening, but then it couldn’t worsen things either, could it?

The doctor came and left again after supplying them with more medicines and changing bandages. The other assassins came by from time to time, exchanged words with Yusuf to keep him updated as they cast glances at Ezio’s still form. Lesya came more often than the others – it was her den after all. When she first settled down next to them she put a small stone on the bed next to Ezio’s pillow, smooth and round and painted with various colours.

“A good luck charm,” she said with a shrug at Yusuf’s questioning glance. “I found it on the street when I was little.”

When Yusuf returned from relieving himself and buying more supplies outside, two more small objects were sitting beside the small stone Lesya had put there – a little seashell and a dried palm seed covered in small carvings. “Aynur and Haluk were here just now,” Lesya informed him without looking up from where she was sharpening a few throwing knives.

Yusuf smiled and shook his head. When Lesya left later that evening to carry out her own business in the night of the city, he dug in his pockets and pulled out the tiny carved figurine of a dog he had been carrying since he was a boy and put it next to the other trinkets. Then he kept on talking.

By the time the next morning  arrived Ezio’s breathing seemed just a little lighter and his pillow was flanked by an entire row of small charms.

*

When he dreamed it was mostly of red. The red of an assassin’s sash, of the lining of his favourite coat, of Leonardo’s hat, of Claudia’s dress. The red of the sky at dusk, of a field filled with flowers, of the heavy drapes in his childhood home. The red of blood on a slit throat, on his own hands, seeping from his body and that of strangers, lovers, friends and family alike. Red, red, red, in a sea around him, drowning him, burning him until his body fell apart.

He gasped, tried to move and grasp for purchase somewhere in this stifling ocean where his own mistakes and life were dragging him down with bony fingers of hate. He thought there was a voice somewhere high above him, soothing and soft, but it was too far to reach. Too far.

The sea of red drove him back and forth, whipping him around and throwing him into scenes of his life that he thought he’d forgotten or wished he had. The feeling of Leonardo’s lips on his skin, his sister’s laugh and brother’s last gaze. Cesare falling and Cristina screaming, his hand ending one life after another until he looked up and stared in his own face, his own blade protruding from his stomach.

 _Let it end, let it end, let it end_ , he thought.

Somewhere, in the distance, he heard laughter.

Not the sort of forced laughter that was the dreaded part of so many overly polite conversations, not the slightly shrill laughter covering up other emotions, but true laughter, infectious in its merriment and cutting through the red of his dreams with little pearls of colour. He wanted so badly to join in, so he reached out and-

*

Yusuf was doubling over and holding his stomach as he could feel a tear running down his cheek. His face hurt from laughing, with Lesya gasping for breath next to him and Aynur howling out with unabashed glee. Three of their recruits were perched on another low bench, slapping their knees, whilst a fourth one sat next them, his face going redder by the moment.

“You took that apple…the apple that you had poisoned yourself only minutes before…and ate it. Because you needed to hide your face because your mother had just entered the room.” Yusuf choked out the words in between more fits of laughter. Young Marco only turned an even deeper shade of red.

At some point during the day they had decided that the gloominess of eventually impending death was best faced the way they had faced everything in the past decades: together. Ezio had seemed to recover slightly, but Paolo had assured them that it could well be the last stubborn bout of strength his body offered before it would succumb. Yusuf did not believe him – he didn’t want to. And so he had invited all those who could find the time to come to their southern den in Bayezid, had plied them with tea and coffee, fruit and bread and then wine later in the day until the stories flowed and the laughter came easily, in open defiance of everything that might happen.

“Surely, I can’t be the only one who ever did an embarrassing thing,” the apprentice said, a slightly mulish expression on his face.

“Surely, you can’t be,” Yusuf laughed. “Anybody else want to volunteer a story?”

“I once stabbed a scarecrow because I thought it was a templar.”

The room grew still from one moment to the other, as if someone had dropped a bomb in their midst. Yusuf turned, praying to see with his eyes what his ears had just heard. But it was true – Ezio’s eyes, still cloudy with fever, were staring back at his own, his lips pulled into the shadow of a smile.

“It must have been a very scary scarecrow then,” Yusuf said, only the tiniest of wavers in his voice as he rose from his seat on the cushioned floor and reached for Ezio’s tea.

“It was,” Ezio confirmed. “It was.”

And Yusuf couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the laughter that broke out of him again, infected the assassins around him even as he held the little cup as still as he could. He lifted it to Ezio’s mouth, the fingers of his other hand curling in Ezio’s hair as he helped him incline his head to drink. He told himself not to linger on its softness for too long.

Ezio fell asleep again soon after, but this sleep appeared to be one of the true, the healing kind, not the one racked with feverish dreams. His breathing was coming easier and it seemed like there was at least a shadow of life back on his pale skin.

The assassins stayed and laughed and shared their stories until deep into the night, their stomachs full and their hearts as light as they hadn’t been for days.

*

When Ezio awoke the next time the bright light of late morning was drawing soft shapes on the blanket that someone had thrown over him. He felt as if he had been run over by at least a dozen of the hay carts he always liked to drop into from high up and then stabbed for good measure. The latter unfortunately being the truth as his sluggish brain remembered soon enough. He lifted the blanket carefully with his unbandaged arm but there was little to see aside from a thick swath of bandages around his midsection. Although he guessed that whatever it was hiding wasn’t pretty, judging from the way it felt and how fuzzy his sight still was at the edges. Whatever they had given him did a moderately okay job at dulling the pain and a great job at dulling all his other senses.

A snore ripped him out of his thoughts and he turned his head to see Yusuf leaning dangerously to the side on the comfortable chair he was sitting in. He wondered briefly if he had dreamed the scene from last night with so many assassins full of mirth around him and the story of the scarecrow, but soon decided that it had been true, simply based on the enormous amount of cups, flask and plates of leftover food that were still spread around the room. He chuckled slightly to himself at the memory and then set to the laborious task of trying to reach the cup which presumably held something to drink on the table next to him.

He hissed when each movement seemed to pull at the stitches in his stomach and hoped he wasn’t ripping them open. Had injuries always hurt this much, even when he was young? He honestly couldn’t tell, although he did recall being stabbed by Rodrigo Borgia as a very unpleasant experience. Ezio shifted, pushing the pain in the corner of his mind that he had learned to shut off long ago. His arms were weak, however, and his hands trembling from even such a slight exertion. He tried to grip the cup but his fingers were clumsy and it fell out of his hand, shattering on the floor and splashing liquid everywhere.

Yusuf jumped out of his chair, dagger in hand even before his eyes opened. His gaze was wild as he took stock of the situation within seconds, only lowering his arms when he was sure that no danger persisted.

“Good morning to you too,” Ezio said calmly. Yusuf frowned, then looked down at him properly and his frown dissolved into a wide grin.

“Ezio! How nice of you to finally join us again. Although it is long past morning. Or is time measured differently in Firenze?” He sat down with a huff as he was talking, tugging the dagger back into his belt and began to collect the shards of the broken cup from the floor. Ezio briefly considered throwing something at him, but he only had one pillow and the little charms on his bed did not seem like adequate throwing material.

“Let me poke a hole in your insides and see how you measure your time then,” he grumbled. Yusuf only laughed in reply and oh, that laughter warmed him from his chest to his toes, far more so than he liked to admit. After disappearing with the shards in his hand, Yusuf returned only a short while later with another cup and that he poured a drink in for Ezio.

“I think I’ll pass,” he said as he helped him drink. “One of us down is more than enough.”

Ezio gave him a grateful little nod after Yusuf had helped him drink and assisted in taking care of other bodily needs. He had his pride, yes, but he had learned long ago that it was of no use when you couldn’t really move and still needed to piss.

“How long was I out for?” he finally asked.

“Almost four days,” Yusuf told him and now that Ezio looked at him more closely he could see the deep rings of lost sleep beneath his eyes.

“And you kept watch over me the entire time?” It was supposed to came out teasing, but instead Ezio found that his voice was softer than usual.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Yusuf winked at him. However, he said nothing to refute Ezio’s claim. Ezio smiled again before groaning as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

“Here, let me help you.” Without waiting for a reply, Yusuf fetched a few more pillows so that Ezio could at least sit up slightly. Suddenly Ezio could feel every single one of his years ache in his bones, from old wounds to the newest ones. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, taking a deep breath. By God, but he was tired.

“So, how did it happen? How did the great Ezio Auditore almost turn himself into a corpse right under my nose and make me face sure death by the wrath of his sister?”

Ezio smiled again.

“Claudia wouldn’t-“ he caught himself before he could finish the sentence. “On second thought, she actually might.” He shifted a little and went rigid for a moment when another arrow of pain lanced through him. “I was hunting,” he finally said, almost unwillingly.

“Who?” Despite his cheery exterior, Yusuf could be relentless. There was a reason he had risen through the ranks to lead the assassins of this city and it had little to do with his laughter. Ezio _did not_ squirm beneath his gaze. He did _not_.

“A captain,” he said carefully. “Who had a few more guards and tricks up his sleeve than I’d anticipated.”

“I know. We heard about his death.” Yusuf’s eyes didn’t leave his face.

“Then why did you ask?” A challenge, perhaps. Or mulish stubbornness.

“Because I want to know why him in particular. Don’t insult my intelligence, Ezio. You know what I mean.”

Ezio weighed his options, wondered if Yusuf not being angry at him was worth the price of a lie. He had told so many already that sometimes he couldn’t quite tell anymore where his truth ended and his lies began. What would one more lie matter? And yet, when he stared into Yusuf’s eyes, the small crease between his brows as he frowned at him in concentrated expectation coupled with what was almost a plea for honesty, he found that he couldn’t do it.

“He was the man who wanted to have you killed,” he offered quietly.

Yusuf leaned back in his chair with a huff.

“There are a lot of men _and_ women who want me dead,” he said angrily. But of course it was him that was stalling now and Ezio knew it just like Yusuf had known before with him.

“But only one who actually attempted it and almost succeeded,” Ezio shot back. He pressed his hand against his stomach in a useless attempt to dull the pain as he tried to sit up straighter. “He could not be left alive. Not when his men managed to get so close to you.”

“I am not sure if I should be flattered, extremely angry or offended by your stupidity,” Yusuf said with a laugh. “We would have killed him sooner or later. No need for you to get yourself disembowelled by trying it alone.”

“I realized the same around halfway through the fight,” Ezio admitted, surprised that he was able to subdue this part of his pride so easily. A younger him would have continued to be cocky and made up more and more extravagant excuses for his behaviour. Yusuf raised an eyebrow at his confession, most of his wrath evaporating like a spray of water in the sun.

“Well, at least you _did_ realise it.”

Ezio just snorted in reply.

“Careful, I am not one of your assassin recruits,” he said lightly, with no real bite behind his words. The gentle teasing between Yusuf and him had become an easy part of their routine, almost comforting now in its familiarity.

“And what will you do if I insult you too much? I have every advantage in the state you’re in.”

This time Ezio _did_ manage to grab a pillow and throw it at Yusuf who ducked away with a laugh. He regretted the sudden movement immediately as pain shot through him sharp as an arrow, causing him to curse as he gasped for breath.

“You’re proving my point. Sit up, I need to see whether you’ve torn your stitches. The doctor said to put more ointment on the wound anyway.” Yusuf was hovering at his side, wanting to be helpful and not too intrusive at the same time. Ezio sighed and motioned for him to come closer.

“Lift your arms a little.” Yusuf’s fingers were gentle as he began to unwrap the bandage around Ezio’s midsection. Ezio looked down at Yusuf’s hands, noting how finely shaped and quick his fingers were. Just as adept at peeling an apple or pouring himself some tea as they were at killing. The back of his bare hand brushed at the bare skin of Ezio’s chest. All of a sudden Ezio was vividly reminded of the fact that it had been a while since he had lain with any women or man, but this was no time to think about it. Although Yusuf practically hugging him and pressing his head against his cheek every time he pulled another round of bandages off behind his back made it very hard not to. He made a soft noise, as he shifted slightly, hoping that Yusuf would pay no attention to how his skin slowly seemed to heat up. Leonardo had teased him once that Ezio was like a lighthouse combined with a bonfire when he was even the faintest bit aroused.

The only indulgence to his clamouring mind that Ezio allowed himself was to close his eyes and breathe in Yusuf’s scent, so familiar and yet so exhilarating. He smelled like old wood and tea, his favourite hair and beard oil and freshly baked flatbread, his favourite food. Ezio opened his eyes again shortly before Yusuf was done.

“Lie back down,” Yusuf ordered him and Ezio did as he was told, although not without taking a look at his wound. The edges still stood out bright red and angry but the red lines that had to have been emanating from it were slowly paling. Two of the stitches had ripped and Yusuf tsk-ed as he went to find a sewing kit with fine enough thread to work for their purpose. Ezio watched as he walked through the room, his movements easy and confident, those of someone who was perfectly aware of what every part of his body was doing. It was an assassin’s walk, but also that of someone who was in control at all times. A thought flashed through Ezio’s mind, wondering what Yusuf would look like when he lost this control, of him coming apart under his hands-

Such thoughts were quickly extinguished, however, when Yusuf returned and, after a questioning glance and a nod from Ezio, pulled the needle through a candle flame and began to replace the stitches. Ezio grit his teeth, quietly thankful for the drugs that were still in his system. Claudia’s voice was somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to keep breathing through it and he clenched his fists in the bedsheets.

“There, already done.” Yusuf nodded in satisfaction as he looked at his handiwork. Ezio let out a deep breath and forced his fingers to relax again. Yusuf didn’t insult him by asking if he was alright, already having made a grab for the jar with the ointment. The salve was, for some reason, so cold that Ezio yelped involuntarily when it first touched his skin. Yusuf laughed, but was relentless in slathering it generously all around the wound and after a moment, the cold began to dull the burning in Ezio’s flesh.

“Thank you,” he said quietly when Yusuf replaced the bandages, leaning against him once more.

“Now your arm.” Ezio sighed, but there was little he could do against Yusuf’s ministrations. He obediently began unwrapping the bandage from his arm.

Once all his wounds had been looked after to Yusuf’s satisfaction he settled back into his pillows, feeling thoroughly dismantled and tired again. The remnants of the fever were still ravaging inside him and although he detested nothing more than the weakness of his own body, he knew that the healing would take far longer.

“You should sleep more if you feel tired,” Yusuf suggested, as if he had read his thoughts. “It’s what your body needs most.”

“I’m not that tired,” Ezio murmured, his eyes already drifting shut again. He didn’t have the energy to protest when Yusuf carefully removed some of the pillows from under him so that he could lie down again. Yusuf laughed, a soft and somehow private sound.

“Sleep,” he said. “I’ll stay here and keep watch.”

His fingers brushed over Ezio’s, a fleeting touch, soft as a butterfly’s wing. _Safe_. That was what he had been feeling all along and only now found the name for. _Safe_. He smiled as he drifted back off into sleep.

*

Yusuf watched as Ezio fell back asleep, his fingers still touching Ezio’s hand. He withdrew them when he was sure Ezio wouldn’t feel it anymore and settled back into his chair with a little groan. Ezio looked more relaxed as he slept, the tight lines of pain in his face softening now that the fever had burnt itself out. He looked both older and younger – rich in years and experience, but less hard around the edges.  Yusuf did his very best _not_ to think of the way Ezio’s skin had felt against his, how the muscles had rippled on his chest as he removed the bandages, firm despite Ezio’s age and oh so inviting.

He sighed, deciding that he would need to move around and take care of his desires before Ezio woke up again. It wouldn’t do for someone who was, strictly speaking, still his mentor, to find him hard as wood when he woke up. Never mind what Ezio would think, Yusuf himself wouldn’t be able to live with the embarrassment.

Ezio woke again near sundown. His eyes looked even clearer and far more alert than before and Yusuf was relieved to find his skin almost back to normal temperature when he briefly put his hand on Ezio’s forehead. His touch might have lingered a moment too long but there was no reproach in Ezio’s eyes when he pulled it away.

The loud growling of Ezio’s stomach saved them both from further embarrassment.

“I’m taking it that you’d like something to eat?” Yusuf asked lightly. Before Ezio could answer, his stomach growled again, sending them both into fits of laughter. Ezio grimaced when his laugh pulled at the muscles around his wound.

“Please,” he said, with all the dignity that he was still able to muster. Yusuf nodded in sympathy and left to heat up some broth that the doctor had said earlier should be fine for Ezio to have, as well as some mashed fruit. He didn’t dare ask Ezio if he should help him eating; the withering glance from him was already enough of an answer. He made sure for him not to eat too much, but clearly this wasn’t the first time that Ezio had been wounded like this. Like all assassins who had reached a certain age he’d likely had his own fair share of life-threatening injuries. Yusuf lifted his hand up to his cheek, where the scar was running down past his chin to the side of his throat. It was not the most dangerous wound he’d ever received, but certainly one of the most painful ones.

“How did it happen?” Ezio asked, following Yusuf’s gesture with his gaze. He had finished eating and already there was an air of slight boredom around him.

“The scar on my cheek?” Ezio nodded and Yusuf shrugged with a little laugh. “It’s…I was young then, and foolish. Thought I had to prove my worth to everyone around me, so when I discovered a templar nest by chance, instead of going back to Ishak, I decided to take care of it on my own. I had as much success as expected and barely escaped with my life. There’s another scar down here,” he touched his ribs, “that bears witness of that.”

Ezio chuckled as he touched his own small scar above his lip. Yusuf wished he would be allowed to trace its shape with his finger. “You aren’t the only one who was foolish and careless in his youth.”

“One more thing that we have in common then,” Yusuf smiled, a feeling of warmth settling in his chest when his smile was returned. It was a marvel how something as simple as a smile could transform the strong lines of Ezio’s face into something soft and even more endearing.

“’One more thing’?” Ezio raised his eyebrows. There was a small spark of mischief in his eyes.  “What else do you figure there is?”

“Our love for well-made bread. The need to climb the highest point in any given district whenever we first reach it. Our fondness for well-written books and mutual dislike for tidying the floor of our rooms. And…” Yusuf wondered just how bold he could allow himself to be. He thought of the way that Ezio said Leonardo’s name, of some of the comments he had made and simply gave himself a push. “…how we can both agree that pleasure cannot only be found in a woman’s flesh.”

Ezio, who had nodded and laughed along to his first points, sucked in a sharp breath of air at the last comment.

“How did you know?” he finally asked, hands flat on the surface of his bed. His entire body seemed tense. Yusuf reached out as if to grab his hand, but aborted the movement at the very last moment. He told Ezio his thoughts that he’d had only moments ago. Ezio relaxed just a little when he was done.

“Leonardo always told me that I was being too obvious,” he said with a rueful little laugh. “But I thought I had learned since then. “

“Or maybe it was just obvious to me,” Yusuf relented. It might even have been true. “I hope I didn’t insult you.”

Ezio snorted at that, the sound bringing a sense of normality back between them.

“No,” he said, his hands slowly relaxing on the bedsheets again as the tensions seemed to bleed from his body. “It was just unexpected, is all.“

“My apologies for bringing it up nonetheless.” Yusuf rolled his shoulders a little, very pointedly trying not to look at Ezio’s face. He was both glad for having said it and angry at himself for having brought this new awkwardness between them. Time to change the topic. “Tell me more about your family then, if you will. Would your sister truly kill me if you had died?”

“No, first she would have brought _me_ back to life just to tell me her opinion and kill me then. After _that_ , she would’ve killed you.” Ezio said it with a fond smile, clearly wishing he could see his sister again.

“She sounds like a very…interesting person,” Yusuf remarked.

“She is interesting, yes. And she’s a lot of other things, too – intelligent, quick to anger, beautiful and oh so stubborn. You two would get along rather well, I think. You’re almost frighteningly similar.”

“Because of the stubbornness?” Yusuf could feel his lips quirk upwards.

“That too.” Ezio’s eyes were sparkling with suppressed laughter. He didn’t elaborate, leaving Yusuf hanging to guess whether he apparently thought that he was beautiful or interesting as well. No matter how age might have changed Ezio’s body, it clearly had done little to dull his deviousness. “Although your laugh is coming a lot easier than hers does these days,” Ezio added more quietly.

Yusuf looked down at his hands, remembering how Ishak had told him once that his laughter was what he kept him going even on dark days and how Yusuf had sworn to himself that day that he would never let anyone or anything take that laughter away from him. Not death, not violence, not even the slow sadness that sometimes stole its way into his mind at night when all his other guards were down. He was aware that Ezio was watching him, attempting to read his face for all the thoughts he wasn’t saying out loud.

“If we let go of our laughter then what is left in the end?” Yusuf asked lightly. Ezio was still looking at him and there was something in his eyes, still glowing with the aftermath of his fever, something that made Yusuf reach out again like he had before and finish the movement. His fingers brushed lightly over Ezio’s and it was like a spark, a shiver that travelled up his arm and straight into his chest. Ezio made a low noise and suddenly Yusuf was pulled forward. He could have walked away if he wanted to but he didn’t, not when Ezio’s eyes and lips were so close. He didn’t even know who was faster in the end.

It was an awkward kiss, both of them in the wrong position and woefully unprepared. Ezio gasped very quietly in pain as he moved a little to adjust his position but the gasp was lost between their lips. Yusuf reached up to grasp his cheek, feel the texture of the beard under his palm as he rubbed his thumb over Ezio’s chin.  Ezio’s lips were chapped and his skin flushed, whether from the remnants of the fever or what they were doing Yusuf didn’t know. But it felt good, better than anything he’d done in recent memory. Ezio’s taste was on his lips and in his mouth and he welcomed it with a fierce longing that surprised himself.

Ezio’s fingers were still clenched around his and he made an almost disappointed little sound when they pulled apart again. Yusuf licked his lips, noticing how Ezio’s gaze followed the movement of his tongue with almost obscene interest.

“We shouldn’t-“ he began, but Ezio cut him off, his skin taking on a deeper shade of red which was an oddly endearing sight on the face of a man in his fifties.

“Why? Is it wrong? Do you feel-“

“Oh no, no.” Yusuf shook his head. “Nothing has ever felt so right. But you’re still injured and if we continue like this…well…let’s say I think it is unwise that we aggravate your wound any further.”

“And you still kissed me like this?” Ezio grimaced. “You are a cruel, cruel man, Yusuf.”

Oh and it was almost enough to make Yusuf bend forward and kiss him again, just to hear the noise Ezio had made before and hear his name over and over again from his lips, made unique and almost irresistible by his accent.

“You are the one who started it.” Yusuf was proud that his voice sounded entirely innocent, nothing at all like what he felt inside. This time Ezio _didn’t_ throw a pillow at him (he likely still remembered what had happened the last time), but it certainly wasn’t from a lack of him wanting to. He frowned at Yusuf, looking almost like a petulant child.

“So, pray tell me then, how am I supposed to not die of boredom whilst I recover? I feel like my bones are getting heavier by the moment.”

“How about you tell me more about Italy? Surely, a fabled assassin of your age must have stories over stories from his time.” Yusuf settled back into his chair with a pleased smile, nibbling on some bread. As much as he loved food, it didn’t taste half as good as Ezio’s lips had.

“Only if you tell me more about Istanbul, Constantinyye or whatever else you call this city,” Ezio threw back. “Even a fabled assassin like me can get tired of speaking. _Especially_ at my age.”

Yusuf almost threw a date at him before he remembered that Ezio wasn’t allowed to each such food yet.

*

With every day that passed, Ezio could feel some of his strength returning to his body. However, it still seemed far too little and far too slow – he could have sworn that he had been recovering twice as fast when he was half his current age. His fingers itched to climb the buildings outside just as he feet wanted to do nothing but run, run until he ran out of breath and lost himself between the white walls of Constantinople. He longed to feel the fresh air of outside in his face and to visit Sofia’s bookshop again and speak with her. There was space enough in his heart for more than one person to love. The presence of Yusuf and the other assassins was the only thing that kept him from going insane although it could only contain his restlessness at best.

But even Yusuf could not stay forever, especially now that that he was in no more danger of dying anymore. The other assassins that would come and keep him company could, of course, not always be there either.

Ezio sighed and put the book that he had been reading back on the table next to him. At least he was finally allowed to eat more substantial food again than just broth and mush made from unidentifiable sources. It was late in the day and Yusuf had left earlier together with Lesya and the other assassins of the den to help a merchant and his family who were reportedly being threatened by templars. Yusuf started to help him get out of bed two days ago and Ezio could shuffle around small distances by himself rather well now. However, they had expressly forbidden him to attempt to walk too much on his own when there was nobody to look after him.

He closed his eyes and listened intently for one last time. No, all gone. Ezio shook off the blanket and set his feet on the ground with quiet determination. He would make it down the stairs, towards where the library was and fetch a new book, he decided. And then right back up and into his bed again before anyone was home to notice.

It went well until he was about halfway down the stairs. He hadn’t done stairs before and his almost healed wound was protesting angrily at the new movements that kept pulling at its edges. Doggedly, he kept inching down the stairs one by one, one hand firmly on the wall and the other pressed against his wound. Just two more steps. One. There.

Ezio let out a gasp and leaned back against the wall to collect his breath for a moment before shuffling off towards the library. What a sorry sight he had to be, he thought angrily. If any of his enemies could see him like this the reputation of the _great_ Ezio Auditore da Firenze would be destroyed forever. A master assassin bested by a set of stairs. His mouth was set in a grim line as he slowly walked over to the shelves and searched for a book that was in a language he was able to read _and_ which he would enjoy reading. It was a harder task than he’d first thought, particularly with the burning of his wound an insistent distraction.

Finally he grabbed a volume that looked promising enough and tugged it under his arm before making his way back to the stairs. There were only fifteen steps but they suddenly looked as imposing as the wall of the Topkapi palace. He took a deep breath, cursed himself for his idiocy once more and gritted his teeth as he took the first step upwards. It _hurt_.

He had made it up ten steps when he had to take another break, trying to will back the dark spots that had begun to creep into his vision. Ezio cursed, the sound of his voice so loud that he didn’t hear the door to the den opening at first.

“Ezio?” Yusuf’s voice called out through the dimness of their temporary home. Ezio didn’t reply but forced himself to take another step up in the nonsensical desire to somehow make it back to his bed before Yusuf discovered that he was gone.

“Ezio?” Yusuf’s voice was louder, sounding more worried as he likely surveyed the room without being able to find a sign of him. Ezio grunted as he heaved himself up another step. The sound was loud enough for Yusuf to hear and it wasn’t long until he stood at the top of the steps, frowning disapprovingly in his direction. Ezio said nothing, just stared at him with all the defiance he was able to muster.

“I just went to get another book from the library,” he said, almost daring Yusuf to challenge him.

“I can see that.” Yusuf nodded at the tome that was still tucked tightly under Ezio’s arm. “Then why don’t you come up the stairs and show me your newest set of reading materials?”

Ezio positively glared at him before he took another step, clenching his teeth at the movement. Yusuf remained where he was, watching him like a hawk, his face expressionless. Ezio swore to himself that he very definitely would _not_ fall up the stairs. No matter how long it would take him to get up. He took another one and then another one, cursing every single event of the last few years that had let to him being like this. Yusuf didn’t waver, waiting for him with an angry patience that only dissolved when Ezio finally took the last step and stumbled. He would’ve fallen hadn’t Yusuf grabbed his arm and pulled him upright again.

“Have you proven to yourself whatever it was that you wanted to know?” he asked, not unkindly. The sympathy in his eyes was almost too much.

“I have.” Whatever Ezio had been able to salvage of his dignity was slowly withering away under Yusuf’s glance. Yusuf sighed, but he kept his hands where they were, supporting Ezio’s arm. They slowly made their way back to the bed, Ezio shuffling along quietly and trying not to show just how thankful he was of Yusuf’s support. It would have all ended well, hadn’t they stumbled over one of the pillows still spread on the ground. One of Yusuf’s legs went out from under him and as much as he tried, Ezio was unable to stay their fall. Yusuf tumbled down first and Ezio followed, his elbow accidentally digging into Yusuf’s ribs as he and his book fell on top of him.

Yusuf gasped in pain and Ezio winced. For a moment they both simply lay there, panting, before Ezio rolled off of him with an almost embarrassed movement.

“Sorry,” Yusuf said. “Are you alright?”

“I think. Not that much worse, at least,” Ezio groaned. Despite his words he still felt like he had fallen down the side of a building, not just a short distance to the floor buffered by Yusuf’s body.   

“What, not any worse than your foolish errant earlier made you already?” There was no real animosity in Yusuf’s voice, more of a resigned huff coupled with relentless teasing. Ezio just snorted in reply, trying to disentangle his leg from Yusuf’s limbs. In the process of his effort one of his hands came to rest on Yusuf’s chest, his warmth radiating through his clothes as it rose and sank with his breathing. Yusuf’s heartbeat was strong in his chest, a steady rhythm beneath Ezio’s hand. There was something reassuring about it, something that steadied Ezio more than he would have ever admitted even to himself. Yusuf’s fingers snaked over his palm, his touch soft and ever so slightly hesitant, so unlike his self-assurance the may times that he had touched him casually. He didn’t stop, however, his fingers sneaking up Ezio’s arm, under the sleeve of his shirt. Warmth followed the trails of his fingertips like a row of flowers blossoming in the snow. Ezio inhaled sharply, his own hand moving across Yusuf’s chest now until he it reached his throat. The skin there was soft and Ezio could see a shiver travelling through Yusuf at the touch.

“This isn’t exactly an ideal place-“ Ezio grumbled half-hearted words were abruptly interrupted by Yusuf pulling him close, his fingers suddenly forceful as they dug in his arm. The pain was sweet, just the right pressure at the right place and Ezio hissed something underneath his breath before he took Yusuf in a forceful kiss. It wasn’t comfortable, not exactly, but Ezio found that he cared very little about comfort at the moment. Yusuf grunted something under his breath and his fingers became more demanding, scrabbling at the simple shirt that Ezio wore.

Ezio moved downwards with his mouth, kissing the corner of Yusuf’s lips, the scratchy hair of his chin, before moving down his throat. He sucked and then nipped slightly at the soft skin and Yusuf _gasped_ , his fingernails leaving scratches on Ezio’s chest as he dug them deeply into his skin. Yusuf had halfway removed his Ezio’s shirt when Ezio stopped in his ministrations for a moment, a laugh dancing on his tongue.

“Weren’t you saying something about ‘not aggravating my wound any further’ the other day?” he asked him, very deliberately pressing on Yusuf’s cock through the fabric of his pants. There was definitely heat down there. He squeezed slightly and Yusuf bit off a Turkish course in his mouth before he answered.

“Was I? I-“ Ezio pressed again, paired with another nip on Yusuf’s skin. “ _Damn you_. Yes. No. It’ll be best to wait until you are healed, of course. You barely made it back up the stairs, you-“

Ezio was listening with only half an ear. Yes, he was certainly not anywhere near his old strength and yes, the little trip to the library had managed to deplete almost everything he’d managed to rebuild in the past days. However, the way that Yusuf was staring at him now, eyes gone dark with lust and how good it felt being touched like this again and how his own body reacted it with almost painful eagerness made him throw aside any worry.

“We’ll just have to be careful,” he mumbled. He pushed the collar of Yusuf’s shirt aside with an impatient growl, eager to be rid of it. Yusuf complied just as quickly as he had helped Ezio get rid of his own. They were stripped down to nothing but their loose pants in a matter of moments.

“Lie down,” Yusuf said and the firm push of his palm against Ezio’s chest coupled with his voice being both caring and demanding loosened something in Ezio’s throat. He complied without protest, shifting a few pillows until he was lying on the rug covering the floor. There was a twitch in his back reminding him that this might not be the most comfortable position of all, but he ignored it because Yusuf was over him again, teeth nipping at his ear and voice filling his mind with wordless little growls.

Ezio wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer until he could scratch the skin on Yusuf’s back, hands slowly moving lower and lower until they began to disappear below Yusuf’s pants. One of his fingers slipped in the crack between his cheeks and the way Yusuf arched up to meet his touch was sweet, almost as sweet as the way he let out a low moan and began sucking at Ezio’s skin more frantically.

“You’re too eager,” Ezio half-whispered half-growled into Yusuf’s ear. Yusuf let out a hiss, his hot breath ghosting over Ezio’s skin, sending prickles down all the way to his groin. He would have arched up his own body but his wound reminded him quickly that this wasn’t such a great idea.

“And you should watch your mouth, _mentor_.” Yusuf bit down hard and a groan escaped Ezio, doubling when one of Yusuf’s hands began to play with his nipples. He shifted, feeling the hardness of Yusuf’s cock against him. Yusuf must’ve bit down on his own lip so hard to keep from making a sound that he drew blood because Ezio could taste it in his own mouth now as Yusuf kissed him again. His fingers continued to press down at Yusuf’s backside, moving deeper until he could cup his ass. He squeezed, making sure to let his fingernails dig into his skin.

Yusuf only responded by taking one of Ezio’s nipples into his mouth and if this was any indication of the skills he possessed with his tongue then Ezio would always hate himself for waiting for so long.

“I want to taste you,” he hissed into his Yusuf’s ear before flipping him to his side so that they were lying face to face. Yusuf’s hands were clenched around his shoulders and pressing him down already, his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants in desperate hardness. Ezio made sure to worship his body every single hand width on his way down, leaving his marks with teeth and nails. Yusuf’s muscles were firm below his skin, only interrupted by the old ridges of scares. Ezio rubbed them with his thumb, took advantage of the increased sensitivity of his skin there until he could feel Yusuf moving against his tongue before he had even arrived at his cock. The coarse black hair on his chest smelled of sweat and hard work and it almost drove him mad. He wanted him like he had wanted little before in his life.

“Ezio-“ It was a chocked out shout that came out of Yusuf’s throat when Ezio’s mouth finally closed around him. Oh but he remembered this, remembered the sweet taste of someone else in his mouth, the way he had to curls his tongue just _so_ \- he began to move his mouth up and down the hardness of Yusuf’s cock. Yusuf’s fingers were curled in his hair, scratching his scalp as his body was quivering.

“Yes. Faster. Ezio-“ Ezio only laughed deep inside his throat and continued his maddingly slow ministrations. Leonardo might have turned him into a master but he had been good even before that. He sped up just a little, changed the rhythm and a surge of curses flowed from Yusuf’s lips, each one of them like surges of encouragement. Yusuf’s hips arched forward slightly, Ezio’s fingers digging into the soft flesh of his thighs. His movements became faster and faster until Yusuf shuddered next to him, spilling wet hot inside Ezio’s mouth.

“Shit, Ezio, where did you learn-“ Yusuf was barely able to string the aborted sentence together. Ezio grinned, licked his lips as he looked at Yusuf from his place between his legs and Yusuf groaned again. One of his hands hooked its thumb under Ezio’s chin, pulling him up again until he could kiss him.

“Gods, you are beautiful,” he whispered.

“You say that only after I’ve given you the best blowjob of your life?” Ezio could feel his eyebrows quirking up. Yusuf punched him gently in the chest, far above the area where Ezio’s wound was sending small stabs of pain at him from time to time.

“Yes. No. I mean-“ Yusuf interrupted himself frowned and kissed him instead of an answer. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

“The same that you are doing to me, I would imagine,” Ezio grinned, but the words came out soft rather than teasing. Instead of replying Yusuf pulled him close, his kisses wandering down from his mouth to Ezio’s neck. One of his hands trailed through the hair on his chest, over the bandages and down towards his groin. Ezio suppressed a gasp when it closed around his cock. It felt good, far too good, for it had been too long and Yusuf’s fingers were just the right measure of calloused and nimble.

There was a rhythm between Yusuf’s tongue on his skin, his teeth nipping at Ezio’s flesh and the strokes of his hand, deliberately slow and with a touch of his fingernails now and then at the most sensitive parts. It made Ezio shudder as he wrapped his arms around Yusuf’s strong form and pulled him as close as possible. He shut his eyes, existed only in the moment as Yusuf slowly sped up, working his body until he thought he must burst. Yusuf’s cock was rubbing on his stomach, then his thighs, hot and stiff again, mixing in with the sensations all around him until he thought they would melt into one.

Yusuf’s fingers were playing him like an instrument and the words slowly mushed together in Ezio’s brain until all he could produce was harsh pants pressed into the crook of Yusuf’s neck. The fingers of Yusuf’s other hand were curling in his hair, yanking in the rhythm of his strokes. Ezio hands were closing around the shape of Yusuf’s behind, his cheeks fitting perfectly into his fingers, every moment of them digging into his flesh only egging him on.

When Ezio came it was in an explosion of heat trapped between them and a moan that rose out of his throat, burying itself in Yusuf’s skin together with his teeth. His fingers were clenched so tightly around Yusuf’s ass and thighs that he must be leaving bruises. Not that he seemed to mind.

They stayed curled around each other, lazy and relaxed as they floated through the aftermath of their orgasms. Yusuf’s breath was deep and even against Ezio’s skin and his fingers were drawing lazy circles on the inside of his thigh and his lower body, just below where the bandages stopped.

“Does it hurt?” Yusuf asked quietly, his voice muffled by how close they were.

“It does,” Ezio admitted. “But I do not mind. Not right now.”

Yusuf trailed his fingers over the bandages around Ezio’s middle, with no more pressure than a spectre’s kiss. Ezio could feel him smile against his skin before Yusuf wriggled apart from him so the he could see his eyes.

“Still, you should be careful,” he said. “And I’d say the we shouldn’t make use of that jar of oil by my bedside before you are fully healed, just in case.” His eyes were sparkling with promise and mischief. Ezio sighed, bringing up one of his hands to brush a strand off hair away from where sweat had plastered it to Yusuf’s face.

“You’re a cruel man,” he iterated an earlier point.

“A sensible man,” Yusuf corrected him with a laugh. “And you are no less cruel. To keep such skill with your mouth from me for so long…”

“Perhaps you should’ve just asked,” Ezio said dryly and Yusuf laughed again. “And wait until you see what I can do once this damn wound isn’t pestering me anymore.”

“I cannot wait.” Yusuf’s fingers ran over his cock, not with the aim to arouse him again, but simply a gesture born from the mutual comfort between them. It felt good to be touched so casually again, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. They basked in the afterglow a while longer and Ezio felt sleep come upon him when Yusuf finally shifted and slowly wriggled his way out of his embrace.

“I’ll get something to clean us up,” he said with a gesture at the mess they had made both on the floor and over themselves. Ezio just nodded, watching him from half-lidded eyes with unabashed worship as Yusuf made his way across the floor, not caring that he was completely without clothes. He wondered idly what would happen if any of the other assassins would enter the den right now and come to look after him. He found that he didn’t care, or at least not with enough urgency to force his body to stand up and get back into the bed that had become his prison for the last weeks.

Yusuf returned and Ezio watched him with a smile, marvelled at the lean lines of his body as he moved with the grace of a true assassin.

“Enjoying the view?” Yusuf teased as he knelt down with the wet cloth in his hands. Ezio reached up to trace the line of hair down his chest before taking the cloth from him and starting to clean himself.

“Indeed I am,” he said, seeing no reason to hide his pleasure. Yusuf offered him a hand and he took it, letting himself be pulled upright. His body took it as the best moment to send him a sharp reminder of his earlier folly and he stumbled and almost would have fallen again had Yusuf not continued to hold onto him.

“I’d be proud of my abilities to reduce to a mess on the floor if I didn’t know that my skills had little to with it for now,” Yusuf smiled. “You should get back to bed.”

Ezio glared at him before he bent down with a sigh and a grimace at the pain in his stomach to retrieve his clothes from the floor.

“I should get dressed first,” he said dryly. “But yes, I will get back to bed afterwards. You should not doubt your abilities though.”

Yusuf laughed and pretended he didn’t feel Ezio leaning into him as he got dressed again and slowly shuffled the last few feet over to the bed.

“I will keep that in mind,” he said when Ezio was finally back under the thin blankets. “Do you want something to eat? I would have brought dinner either way.”

“Thank you.” Ezio smiled and let his fingers trail over the skin of Yusuf’s arm as he was standing next to him. His stomach growled quietly, reminding him of how weak he was still feeling – and of how hungry sex always seemed to make him. Leonardo and Cristina had both always made fun of him for it. Leonardo had liked to put his ear on Ezio’s stomach and waited for it to growl loudly in demands of being fed. Cristina had always had snacks lying around whenever Ezio had visited her, by sheer ‘coincidence’. It still made him smile to think about despite the pain her memory would never fail to bring him.

Yusuf returned quickly with two plates heaped with food and Ezio was quietly grateful that he was allowed to eat almost anything again. They ate and drank in mutual comfort and Ezio was glad to see that almost nothing between them had truly changed. There was still the same ease between them, the same warmth and none of the awkwardness that he had been slightly afraid might have descended down on them. He told Yusuf about how Leonardo and Cristina had used to tease him and Yusuf’s eyes lit up with the easy laughter that only served to make him more beautiful.

“Tell me about them,” he said between two bites, gesturing in Ezio’s direction. “You have been with us for quite a while, yet I feel like I know so little about the people in your life and the person you used to be.”

“Perhaps because I used to be quite the fool,” Ezio smiled and Yusuf grinned in reply.

“’Used to’? My friend, I don’t think you’ve changed at all if that’s the case!” Ezio threw a grape in Yusuf’s direction. Yusuf somehow managed to catch it with his mouth, grinning so widely that Ezio’s face hurt just from watching him.

“Just wait until I am fully recovered,” Ezio grumbled. “You won’t dare to tease me like this again.”

Yusuf just laughed at him and no matter which worries Ezio might have had, they were being swept away by the sound of his laughter like leaves in a small stream. It was impossible to stay angry with him.

“I cannot wait to taste your revenge,” Yusuf said, his eyes sparkling. Ezio choked down a laugh and tried to keep the heat from rising in his cheeks like he was thirty years younger again. The promises in Yusuf’s voice were hard to overhear.

“Well, for now you won’t taste anything but our dinner,” he shot back. They continued to eat, but Ezio had not forgotten Yusuf’s earlier request.

“Leonardo always told me that he wished for me to find happiness more than anything else in the world,” he finally said, turning a piece of cheese in his hands. “I always laughed when he said it. I told him I had everything I needed. He only shook his head back then and I never understood why he seemed so sad, not until I grew older. He…”

Ezio’s voice trailed off. He had almost obliterated the piece of cheese in his hand. He chewed on it, swallowed and only then looked up to see Yusuf gaze at him intently.

“Who was he? Was he your first…you know…” Yusuf gestured and his motions drew a little laugh from Ezio’s chest.

“My first time with a man? No, certainly not. My first relationship? No, not that either. But perhaps the most important one. One of the most important ones.” He had never said it out loud like this and part of him was glad that he did so now. The other was angry – it should not have been Yusuf hearing these words for the first time. No, it should have been Leonardo himself, back before life had slowly swept them in different directions. Ezio rubbed his chest. The ache of missing Cristina and Leonardo was always there but it hadn’t been this strong in years.

Yusuf nodded, a knowledge in his eyes that made Ezio certain that he knew what he was talking about. He didn’t ask how it had ended and Ezio was oddly grateful.

“Leonardo always made me laugh,” he said after the silence had stretched. “It was one of the things I loved most about him. That and the way he always seemed distracted by something greater than himself. He would have forgotten to eat or to change his clothes had I not reminded him.”

“He sounds a great deal like someone I once knew,” Yusuf smiled. It was a wistful smile, one that still held longing, but without the underlying melancholy Ezio had begun to feel so keenly in the recent years. At least, until Yusuf’s laughter and Sofia’s passion had begun to revive him again.

They continued talking over their meal and kept doing so for long after when the darkness had long descended outside like a blanket of soft satin with a few pinpricks of stars shining through. Yusuf told him about his childhood and about how he had first met Ishak Pasha and become an assassin. Ezio, in turn, regaled him with numerous tales of his embarrassing exploits as a youth and how he had been thrust into adulthood the day he saw half his family hang. There was no need to recount the pain their deaths had brought him. Both of them were old enough to have experienced the sharp and terrible bite of loss more than once in their lives and the knew that few words could soften its pain.

Ezio’s voice was hoarse when they finally ended the evening. Lesya and a few of her disciples had joined them for part of the night after returning from a mission, in high spirits and bringing mirth and more laughter with them. Ezio’d had to tell the story of how he had stabbed a scarecrow once thinking it was a templar again. After he did, he had finally handed back the small tokens they had put by his bedside to wish him well. There was a tugging in his chest as he did so, looked into their gleaming eyes and thanked them for their care; it took his mind to work out a while what it mean. _Family_. It almost felt like family again. The thought made him sink back into his pillows with a little sigh as he resolutely ignored the burning in his eyes. The other assassins were kind enough not to notice, although he saw the shimmer that Yusuf’s gaze took on.

He helped to clear up as well as he could without getting out of bed (as Yusuf had forbidden him to do so after his earlier adventure on the stairs and their following escapades), feeling the familiar twinge of guilt again at having others do his work for him just because he was injured.

“If you keep frowning like this your face will one day become permanently stuck in this expression,” Yusuf teased him gently once they were alone again. He was lounging on the floor next to Ezio, propped up by a few pillows even as he yawned. Ezio was too tired to think of a proper retort so he only dug deeper into the blanket over him. They had redressed his wounds and the pain of it was slowly ebbing away, leaving him sleepy and unfocused in the safety of the den. Assassins were keeping watch outside and he felt secure and warm, especially when the gaze from his half-closed eyes travelled over Yusuf’s form. What a gift he was. What a marvel.

Yusuf felt his gaze on his skin and smiled again, this one smaller and somehow more radiant than his previous smiles. It was meant for Ezio alone and felt like a jewel in Ezio’s mind, sparkling and enticing him with its beauty. Yusuf reached out and touched his hand lightly, let his fingers trail over its back until a happy shiver raced through Ezio, although his eyes were slowly falling shut. He could hear Yusuf shifting on the floor and then getting up. The soft scratch of cloth on skin as he was undressing – and then again the touch of Yusuf’s hand on his arm, this time firm and warm and asking for permission. Ezio only nodded, interlacing their fingers.

The soft echo of a laugh ghosted over his skin as Yusuf carefully lowered himself into the bed, half climbing over him so he could lie between the wall and its window and Ezio’s body. He drew the blanket back over them and wrapped his arms around him from behind, his toes nestling against Ezio’s legs. It was comfort and warmth, given freely and with no second thought. Ezio drew Yusuf’s hand up to his mouth, their fingers still intertwined, and pressed a kiss on his knuckles before he shifted slightly, his back a perfect fit against Yusuf’s chest.

Oh, but it was good as it was now, a home away from home that he’d never thought he’d find. He drifted off into sleep with Yusuf’s arms around him and his laughter an echo of warmth in his mind.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
